


The Devil is My Friend

by Fluxx



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: 2x12 Coda, Bad Decisions, Episode: s02e12 You Are Not Your Own, Evil Alec Lightwood, Evil Clary Fray, Evil Magnus Bane, F/M, Guilt, Healing, M/M, Malec, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Tags Contain Spoilers, To Be Continued, Unwanted Advances, but mostly I just wanted an excuse to introduce Lilith and Gabriel, maybe more will follow maybe not, oh Alec what have you gotten yourself into, post-episode, sure let's keep it going, why the hell not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-11-14 09:13:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11204928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluxx/pseuds/Fluxx
Summary: Despite attempts to reclaim his former stability, Magnus' guilt for the suicide of his mother lingers. In a desperate attempt to deal with his guilt and self-loathing, Magnus summons a pair of old associates, their trickery proving useful to the warlock... for a price.Check out other fics onmy tumblr!





	1. Chapter 1

Magnus stared at the unassuming paper laying before him, his eyes tracing the black ink over and over and over. He told himself it was because he needed to make  _sure_ the insignia was no less than perfect. He couldn't allow himself to think that he, Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn, might be scared of some silly little summoning.

There was so much more to fear.

The screams still echoed in his mind. He'd tried everything - meditation, alcohol, insomnia. Not even a visit from Catarina quieted the memories, though he'd made sure she left his loft none the wiser. Still, he heard his crying, saw her blood, felt his wrath. The fear, the pain, the guilt... Especially the guilt.

_You're a monster._

He scowled, angry tears at the corners of his eyes, snatching his wrist to steady his blade. Lips pursed, he steeled himself, seizing a final chance to bury every ugly scene bursting forth from every side of his mind, but they refused to dim, no less cease their relentless assault. Defeated, broken, and lost, he brought the knife to the palm of his hand, his final hesitation flickering out like a dying candle before its sharp edge sliced his flesh.

It felt strange, summoning like this. There was no magic, certainly not on his part at least, nor any particularly special components. A symbol and a drop of blood, nothing more - so simple a Mundane could do it in their sleep. Watching the crimson seep into the black ink and surrounding porous, white paper, he supposed that was probably the point.

"Magnus. Bane."

The sound of Camille's voice made him start, and he had to bite his tongue to keep himself from saying anything.

Her soft chuckle shifted to one side of him as she began her slow, steady circle around him, one of soon to be many he was sure. "Aw, what's wrong, O Son of Darkness?" Her choice of words was the only thing keeping him grounded in reality, his mind begging him to abandon his resolve and accept the black hair, pale skin, and ruby lips his eyes beheld. The hypnotizing features stopped before him, face held upright and hips askew, every angle, curve, highlight, and shadow adjusted to an impossibly perfect degree, finely tuned to the pose which pleased him most. "Not who you were expecting?"

He took a breath, lowering his knife to rest upon the bloodied paper and retrieving the handkerchief waiting upon the table. "Hello, Lilith," was all he replied, still coaching himself to betray not the slightest clue as to just who it was he saw posturing before him. The fact that she wasn't eyeing his bleeding hand helped, and to keep that fact obscured he took his time dabbing it with his handkerchief before finally snapping his fingers, the fibers of his skin weaving themselves back to an unmarred whole. He eyed her head-to-toe, projecting as much of his dissent as he could manage. "Where's your brother?"

The question clearly irritated her, all pleasantry falling from her face faster than the snow of an avalanche. What remained splayed across her features proved so incongruous to Camille's features that Magnus no longer struggled to see the decaying flesh and chalk-white bone flickering just beneath her surface. "Finishing a client," she muttered, suddenly turning away in complete disinterest. It hurt on a base level he couldn't prevent, the rejection of so perfect a figure stinging old wounds. She strutted across his loft without the slightest glance back, intent on investigating what hid behind his sliding black doors. "Are you alone, O Son of Darkness?" she mused, her tone surprised and disappointed at once.

Even as her elegant hand drew the door open, a flick of Magnus' wrist slammed it shut tight, and a push of his palm locked it shut. "Yes, I am."

She sighed, turning from the door to shoot a glare his way, something he was quite used to seeing on those black-ringed eyes. "I hope you don't intend on paying  _yourself_?" she snarled, as though the thought alone sent her blood boiling.

His lips parted to reply.

Alec's voice consumed it whole.

"Of course he doesn't. He  _can't_."

Magnus choked on his unspoken words, eyes wide and heart in his throat. With that single remark, he knew what stood behind him, and all of a sudden found himself terrified of what he'd see if he turned to look.

The state had Lilith sneering, collapsing back into one of the chairs lining the room. "The rumors are true, then? The great  _Magnus Bane_ has abandoned his  _filthy_ , promiscuous ways and devoted himself to a single beneficiary?"

Strong, firm hands slid over his shoulders, followed soon thereafter by toned arms and Alec's familiar and intoxicating scent. The blinding sensations closing in on him from all sides paralyzed him his heart racing in his throat and lips quivering with want. "And just who  _is_ the unfortunate child you've selected to warm your bed, O Son of Darkness?"

" _Stop!_ "

Like ripping off a band-aid, Magnus whirled and shoved the man away from him, those comforting arms snaking out from around his torso and those gentle hands snagging briefly in the folds of his clothes. The sight of Alec stumbling away from him sank fresh daggers through his already beaten and worn heart, cutting him anew as that darkly handsome face rose to glare at him through messy brown locks.

To his great relief, the seething resentment passed, but the wicked smile that took its place left Magnus feeling sick. "Fine," the man purred, his spine straightening out once more until he stood tall before Magnus, broad shoulders and wide stance boasting a form too perfect to be believed. "I'll leave well enough alone, O Son of Darkness, but only because we're friends."

"We're not  _friends_ ," Magnus quickly retorted, one hand raising between them to ward off any retaliation his words might tempt. Those deep eyes bore into his very soul, watching the way Magnus gazed upon him and devour every desperate, flickering glance. "...And stop  _looking_ at me!" he added, his voice sounding more like a whimper than he cared to admit.

Behind him, Lilith laughed, Camille's manner resonating throughout the room. "Hah! What is this? Who are you, and what have you done with our Magnus Bane?" she mocked, reveling in the way her voice alone grated the warlock.

Alec rolled his eyes and reluctantly acquiesced, but no amount of frustration could alter the perfect and graceful manner in which he turned around, hands extended to his sides. With his back to Magnus, his head tilted back and rolled as if suddenly quite taken with the loft's ceiling. "Better?" he called over his shoulder. Before he received any answer, his hands had already moved to his front, and from the particular shifting of his arms it was plenty evident what work his fingers had taken to on his belt.

"Stop...  _stop_!" Magnus found himself repeating, eyes frantically shifting as if the answer to his mistakes might be spelled out in the air between them.

As much as he could feel the wanton lust that had consumed the air, so too could he sense the bristling from both creatures occupying his home. Alec made show of abandoning his efforts with the violent and enraged whip of his hands back out to his sides, and Camille re-entered his view, hissing at him in a voice he couldn't help but quiver before. "Our patience wears thin, O Son of Darkness!" she snapped, the illusion's eyes suddenly consumed with the demon's natural navy-blue.

"You don't want to be admired," Alec joined in, long fingers counting off his points. "You don't want a show. But your blood forbids you from partaking." At the end of his list, he apparently decided he was done simply following along with Magnus' commands. A too-practiced twist brought him back around, and just as his sister's blue his eyes were taken with a deep, burning crimson foreboding enough to truly shatter any notions he might truly be Alec Lightwood. "What do you want, O Son of Darkness? Why summon us here to your barren domicile? If not to partake of Sin, then perhaps to mock us with your tiresome gloating?!"

It hurt to see Alec so purely livid, and in that moment Magnus knew beyond a doubt that he never wanted to see it again. Even still, he had to thank the demon for showing him so cruel a mirage, as that was what finally shattered the decadent illusion and reinstated his mirage. Magnus stood tall, feline eyes narrowed upon the twisted nightmare before him and lips pursed.

_That's not Alec. That's not **my** Alexander._

"First of all, stop calling me that." He shifted his pointed glare between the both of them, continuing, "If you  _must_ use some ridiculous title, I do actually have one. It's the High Warlock of Brooklyn, in case you missed the announcement. Secondly..." He pushed Lilith from his mind, head twitching to focus wholly upon Alec's perfected features, marred as they were by those searing hues. He took a breath to steady himself before at last voicing his strange request. "Gabriel. I want you to show me..." A final moment's hesitation stilled the demon before him, the intrigue explicit upon Alec's face. "... _me_."

Taken aback, Gabriel scoffed. "Excuse me? You want me to... ?" His voice trailed off, eyes slipping up-and-down Magnus in confusion so rampant it looked like disgust - Magnus couldn't say for sure whether he preferred it to the prior display of unbridled wrath. In the end, Gabriel snickered, and beyond his vision he could hear Lilith do the same. "You have some awfully strange kinks, O...  _High Warlock of Brooklyn_."

As expected, the demon found amusement in Magnus' words, but that mattered little to him. All he cared about was the shortening of Alec's hair, the yellowing of his eyes, the tanning of his skin. His features shifted between moments, each intermediary version just as lovely and elegant as the last. Even as Gabriel began looking less like Alec and more like him, the inhuman allure held Magnus captive, and he couldn't tear his eyes free until the transformation was at last complete.

His own smirk measured him up, and swiftly deemed him of little consequence. "How do you look?" Gabriel purred, Magnus' voice silken and honeyed as it filled the space between them.

Magnus stiffened, hands balling into clenched fists. The man before him was not an exact copy, but rather a corrected one, a version of himself that he preferred. Every minute detail had been tweaked to an obsessively exact degree, his own mind feeding him lie upon lie upon lie, whatever it took to make Gabriel seem no less than absolutely  _perfect_. "Beautiful," he breathed, knowing the demon would delight in any doting murmur he might spare.

Behind him, his voice laughed at him, though the sound was more rounded and syrupy than his usual tone. "We knew you were conceited, High Warlock of Brooklyn, but  _this_?" Lilith continued her predatory circling, leaving him to watch as a slightly more feminine version of himself strutted behind the grinning, dark beauty he'd commanded of Gabriel. Lilith paused just behind him, her sly versions of his feline eyes oozing over his every reaction, her softer impression of his lips curling into a pleased purr. "This is truly unexpected, my dear Magnus Bane."

Magnus frowned at his pair of reflections, their mockery building enough resentment for this desperate tactic to finally start working. "Please. As lovely as I am, neither of you could ever  _possibly_ compare to the real thing." Standing tall and recomposing himself, he looked down his nose at them, studying the sinister hunger in their eyes, the lewd beckoning in their postures, the blatant disregard for anything and everything beyond their next meal that ran rampant through their every look, motion, and whisper.

_That's not me. They are monsters. I am not a monster._

They'd begun shifting again, Gabriel joining in on Lilith's slow, practiced prowl. They circled him in opposite directions, eying him from every angle like starved hyenas closing in upon a limping gazelle. "So this is what you Desired, O Son of Darkness?" Gabriel sneered, apparently discarding all regard for Magnus' requests.

"A pep talk for the Little Warlock," Lilith spat at him. "How  _pathetic_."

"What do you care?" Magnus scoffed, lifting a brow and glancing to each of them in turn. "I've never known the two of you to concern yourselves with my personal affairs." The more he spoke, the easier it grew to separate himself from the twisted illusions slinking around him. Seeing what Evil looked like manifested in him, he could look at them and remember that he was different, that even despite his flaws there was still Goodness in him. Goodness that he could cling to... the same Goodness he knew his beloved Alec saw in him.

_Am I still worthy of that?_

"Magnus, I'm hurt!" Lilith cooed in overly faked concern. "Are we not your friends? We had such a wonderful thing..." She sighed, Magnus' feminized face taking on a distant and wistful gleam. "We shared so many delicious little toys."

"Oh,  _didn't_ we?" Gabriel joined in, the glee in his voice sounding a touch too close to Magnus' for the warlock's liking. "I think my favorite were those Sweet Sixteen girls—"

" _Enough_ ," Magnus hissed, energy crackling between his curled fingers. "The two of you have served your purpose. It is time to discuss payment."

 _That_ seemed to get their attention. They stopped in their spots, yellowed eyes still fixed upon him, and a moment later the illusions shattered. Every last trace of Magnus faded away in a near instant, far quicker than the agonizing pace Gabriel had taken to transition away from Alec. What remained were the visages Magnus remembered from their past, a sort of "default" state they wore when they weren't luring unsuspecting Mundanes and Shadowhunters into their world of Lust. Lilith sported the voluptuous curves typically associated with succubi in much of Mundane mythology, her black hair falling long past her shoulders and streaked with blue to match her eyes. Gabriel was likewise as taut and broad as the usual incubi depictions, his mop of midnight highlighted in a brighter red than his gaze. Both sported a tiny pair of curved, golden horns, so subtle they could have easily been mistaken for hair accessories in a quick glance. As with all of their other forms, they remained captivating and flawless, burdened only by the secret knowledge that they would never  _truly_ be the object of their viewers' fascinations.

"Indeed," Gabriel muttered, the deepness of his natural voice burning away the last remnants of Magnus from his aura.

"It had better be worth the trouble," Lilith pouted, her voice somehow sounding like an enraptured moan despite her explicit dissent. "We don't give our name to just anyone, you know."

Magnus rolled his eyes as he walked up to one of the room's cabinets, its shelves stocked full with a multitude of bottles, boxes, and vials of every ingredient imaginable. Swift hands slid open a drawer to pluck a pair of small, paper tabs, an expert flick of his wrist tossing one to each demon. "Those will protect you from Pandemonium's wards for two hours." He turned on a heel, hands raised to either side and eyes shifting warily between the two of them. A part of him felt guilty letting them slink among his club's patrons, but despite their questionable intentions the pair were _far_ less concerning than even most of the Downworlders that frequented the establishment.

Lilith chuckled, daintily placing her tab upon a sensually curled tongue. "Two hours, ahh~?" Her eyes slipped shut, the tab disappearing behind her luscious lips, and a moment later a subtle shimmer fell down her succulent body. "Should be plenty of time to catch a meal."

Gabriel, meanwhile, continued turning the tab over in his long fingers, contemplating the warlock's offer. "Your life certainly seems to have taken a turn for the strange, dear friend." Slowly, his crimson eyes lifted from the tab in his hands, a deep and ancient intelligence peering through seemingly to Magnus' very soul. It sent a chill down his spine, and shortly thereafter he watched as the tab in Gabriel's fingertips slid between Alec's lips, to be taken between Alec's teeth and swallowed whole down Alec's throat. He winced before the resurgence of at once his greatest dream and worst nightmare, but before he could voice any thought the pair of demons turned their backs to him, eager faces regarding the New York skyline beyond Magnus' balcony.

"Fare thee well, O Son of Darkness," Lilith called sweetly over her shoulder, a hand curling its wave through the air beside her before her form collapsed into a cloud of blue smoke, picked up bit by bit upon the pull of the wind.

Gabriel followed soon thereafter, leaving Magnus to watch as a crimson mist overtook Alec's arms, legs, and cunning grin. "I'll be sure to give our company your  _kindest_ regards."

Alone once more in his loft, Magnus pursed his lips, staring out into the cold night. The affect the cubi had on the air lingered, leaving behind a particular tinge that buzzed along the edges of his awareness. His eyes fell to the paper still laying innocently upon the table, his blood long-since dried, and with a snap of his fingers it went up in a quick, obliterating flame. Anxiety paced him about his livingroom, pulling his cell phone from his pocket and rapidly scrolling through the contacts. Luckily, the name he sought waited close to the top.

_A. Lightwood._

His efforts hard worked, getting him through his final dredges of self-loathing and doubt. No longer did the High Warlock of Brooklyn wallow in his lair, contemplating the divine weight of his soul. However, in its place was foreboding worry, a concern not for himself but for the effect he had on the world without - rare for one so eternal as he, for whom the passage of time so swiftly erased mistakes of the past. Even Alec could tell something was wrong from the other end of the call, Magnus' assurances doing nothing to assuage his disconcerting feelings. "Yes, Alexander, I'm... I'm fine. Just... Please just come over, if you can. I could... I could really use a talk, if you have the time..."

_Of course. Anything I can do. I'll be over soon._

Magnus hoped so.

With the night victim to the cubi's whims, there was so much for them to talk about.


	2. Chapter 2

Jonathan's face brightened as he spotted Clary entering the Institute out of the corner of his eye. Despite the piling of secrets and plots burdening him, just the sight of those bouncing, vibrant curls brought a certain quiet to the chaos of his mind. It was a peace he yearned for and chased perhaps a touch too ardently than he should have. He winced, recalling the awkward exchange of his dinner offer and her rejection. It normalized his pace as he drew up before her, an apologetic smile softening his clean features. "Clary! I, um... I just wanted to apologize again for my forwardness the other night. I hope I didn't make you feel too uncomfortable?"

A mild confusion seemed to shimmer in those brilliantly green eyes of hers, but it had faded before he could fully grasp it, consumed by a luscious vibrancy that put knots in his stomach. "Oh, no, not at all," she insisted, her voice like the sweet call of a songbird urging him out of bed. Before he quite knew what was happening, her hand was closing in upon his cheek, his heart skipping a beat. "Actually, I—"

He wasn't quite sure what had happened. He'd thought her hand had cupped his cheek, she held him no longer. Whatever brief contact he'd been gifted had come alongside a painful jolt and searing grate, a sensation he personally didn't find altogether unpleasant but of which she clearly felt otherwise. Her warm glow rapidly faded, like the memory of a dream, leaving behind a plain and emotionless stare. If anything, she was sooner intrigued than amicable, a single brow slowly lifting in a manner made his throat grow dry.

It was ultimately she who broke the silence, whispering through a cruel smile he wished he'd never seen. "...Ah. I see."

"Magnus?"

Alec's sudden presence beside them startled Jonathan out of his momentary stupor. He blinked his eyes in confusion at Alec's interjection, but as he parted his lips to question the esteemed Shadowhunter Clary turned to him with a smile and replied instead. "Ah, Alec!" she replied, a hand moving to lay upon his forearm.

Jonathan stared as the other-worldly glow returned to her features, unable to make sense of what he was seeing. He knew for certain Alec harbored romantic persuasions for none other than his beloved warlock, but equally so that it was Clary who currently captured his gaze with a look like they were the only beings in all the world, who received his hand upon her shoulder and his kiss upon her lips. Personal jealousy aside, it didn't take their incongruous words for him to deduce there was something very,  _very_ wrong about the young woman standing before him.

"I didn't think you were coming here," Alec replied, very obviously entranced by whatever his beaming eyes beheld. Subconsciously, he'd gestured to his phone as he spoke, drawing a quick flicker of Clary's eyes that Jonathan knew only he had noticed. "Did you still want me to go home with you... ?"

The remark stirred something within the creature before them, at once an exhilaration and a frustration. "No," she quickly replied with a tilt of her head and a lay of her fingertips along his neck. Her eyes shifted to regard Jonathan, and he glimpsed a conniving wickedness he couldn't help but admire, for all that it gripped his soul. "This young man just brought to my attention a very important matter I must take care of," she replied, and he noted with a twist of his stomach that her word choice had suddenly become quite similar to Magnus's.

When Alec looked up at him, a slight daze lingered in his precarious smile. "Oh, sorry," he absentmindedly murmured, a hand moving to gently touch Jonathan's back. "This is Sebastian Verlac. He's from the London Institute."

"Ah, y-yes," Jonathan replied, hurriedly holding out a hand for the person he now knew to be anyone  _but_ Clary. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance..." He hesitated, then warily finished, "... Mr. Bane."

The look she gave him held a terrifying intensity, detesting him for the audacity of offering her his hand. Nonetheless, she took it in hers, swallowing a grimace and in turn confirming she felt the same agony he did from their touch alone. "The pleasure's all mine," she replied with practiced professionalism. As soon as possible without drawing suspicion, she slipped her hand free of his grip and returned it to lay in Alec's, as though his skin were some sort of healing balm that banished her pain. The smile swept back across her lips, the glimmer to her eyes, and all at once Alec fell back into her gaze. "In any event, I do still wish to speak with you, but perhaps you could meet me at my club instead?" A stray nod of her head implicated Jonathan, as if that explained everything behind the change of rendezvous. "That's where the trouble is, it seems. I could really use your eye on things until I make it there myself... ?"

It was as though the drift of her voice had swallowed Alec's breath. "Of course," he assured her, both hands moving to clasp her shoulders. "Anything for you, Magnus." He grinned, then leaned in to steal another kiss, unable to perceive the victorious smirk curling hers. "Pandemonium, right?" he checked as he pulled away and made to depart.

"Yes," she purred, bidding him adieu with a small wave of her hand. She and Jonathan both continued watching until he'd slipped completely through the door, only then returning to the matter Alec's arrival had so abruptly interrupted.

A snarl wrinkled his nose and curled his lips. "You—"

His voice choked off at the sudden clutch between his legs, her nails threatening to pierce through the fabric of his slacks. "—would be very interested in moving this someplace  _private_ ," she hissed back. Despite her shorter stature, she looked up at him in full awareness of her dominance over the situation, a wild thrill highlighting those impossibly verdant eyes. "Unless you'd prefer they  _all_ know that you're a demon... ?"

Jonathan pushed her off and away from him, but spoke not a single protest. His heart raced from both the effect she'd had on him and the very real danger all of his delicate plans would be exposed and ruined right then and there. "Fine," he snapped through pursed lips, his rage barely contained. "Shall we relocate to my loft, then? It's only a short walk from here."

She scoffed, the ugly presence of haughty arrogance dragging daggers across an otherwise perfect vision of Clary. "I think not, Little Cherub." Her gaze drifted downward beneath long-lashed lids, veering in the direction of the Institute's cells, and a hungry smile bared her crisp, white teeth. "I know you have the Morning Star. I can smell his putrid desperation, and I wish to taste his self-loathing even as he begs for more." She practically licked her lips as she spoke, sickening him to his very core but nonetheless cementing his suspicions about just what exactly she was.

"You're a succubus," he asserted, unable to help but feel a modicum of pride at his discovery.

It clearly irritated her, the gaggle of unsuspecting Shadowhunters deeper within the Institute suddenly piquing her interest. "Indeed. And you're—"

"Alright,  _alright_ ," he hurriedly acquiesced, lowering his voice and closing the distance between them. "What do you want me to do? Stand guard? You clearly don't have any problems with the Institute's wards."

She delighted his ears with a light chuckle, her eyes following the spider-like crawl of her fingertips up his shirt. Apparently, so long as some kind of barrier separated flesh from flesh, contact wouldn't hurt them, an observation that part of him desperately wanted to take advantage of. "Oh, you sweet little thing... Don't play coy with me, O Son of Angels. I know you Nephilim pride yourselves in your  _impeccable_ security measures." She paused, her fingers lingering at the collar of his shirt, as if begrudging the recollection that she couldn't quite touch him. With a pout that tugged his heart strings despite his knowledge of her grotesque truth, she looked up at him and laced her heavenly voice around his neck like a noose. "'Tis not the wards with which I need assistance, O Son of Angels, but rather the cameras." Her hand abandoned his neck to instead tweak his nipple through his shirt. She smirked, delighting in his sudden flinch, then stepped back to languidly press the elevator's call button. Her head leaned back against the wall, her body laying along the cold stone as though an ancient Greek master had expertly posed Clary to please Jonathan's exact preferences. "Shall we simply say that I have quite the card to play should I ever need to bargain for my freedom?"

He hated being played like this, but wouldn't suffer letting all of his carefully-lain machinations fall apart at the hands of a meddlesome succubus. Certainly, he'd divine a way to deal with her later. For now, as much as it made him cringe to think of it, allowing his father to fall into the claws of Lust ultimately wasn't overtly against his aims. With his mind set, he turned to swiftly address the cams, offering not a word of acknowledgement or admission to the haunting vixen behind him.

If the distant chuckling ringing in his ears were of any testament, he didn't _have_ to.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Pandemonium's evening crowd came into view, the daze at last cleared from Alec's mind. For the first time, as the neon lights flickered before his eyes, he wondered why he'd come here at all. Magnus's words still rang in his ears, of course, like the persistent earworm that wouldn't go away even after weeks of silence.

_Perhaps you could meet me at my club instead? That's where the trouble is, it seems._

Something bothered him about the words, not the least of which were the images it summoned unbidden into his mind: their bodies, his and Magnus's, twisting and turning beneath a sea of colored lights, lip-locked and groping, heavy moans drowned in the heavy pulse of music. It wasn't altogether unpleasant, of course - quite the contrary. But it wasn't exactly relevant, nor anything he'd ever dreamed of before, especially given the rather dire events of the past few days.

_That's where the trouble is, it seems._

The words propelled his feet towards the club's bouncer. All it took was a met gaze for the suited man to stand aside. "Ah, Mr. Lightwood," he greeted. "Can we expect to see Mr. Bane this evening?"

_I beat him here._

"Yes," Alec reported, stepping past but lingering just outside the club's entryway. "We heard there was trouble?"

The bouncer frowned. "My apologies, Sir. If there is, it hasn't started yet."

"Or it slipped your notice," he remarked lowly. "Alright, I'll check things out. When Magnus arrives, let him know I'm here."

"Of course, Sir."

Alec soon lost himself in the club's dense crowd easily enough, narrowed eyes scouring every inch of the place for any sign of whatever trouble had befallen the place. Come to think of it, he hadn't the slightest clue what he was supposed to be looking for. Surely, Magnus would have mentioned  _something_ about what the problem was?

_Unless he didn't know._

_What did Sebastian tell him, anyway?_

More thoughts tangled across his eyelids - more sights, sounds, tastes. He felt Magnus's lips upon his own, could smell the man's musk filling his every breath. The flush taking over his neck and chest drew a light sweat across his skin, and he found himself growing rapidly frustrated.

_Why did we have to come here? Why couldn't it have been back home? If we were home, we could—_

Alec froze in the middle of the dance floor, eyes wide. Bright, yellow eyes shone across the club, cresting now and again over the bob of dancers. An array of colors glittered across dark skin, and exquisite, embroidered silks shone beneath the sweeping LEDs. The creature who ruled over this place was truly a sight to behold, but still it sank sharp daggers through Alec's heart, juxtaposed as the man was between writhing, lust-drunk bodies. He imagined, briefly, what it might be like to be where Magnus sat. The defiant clench of his eyes, teeth, and fists alike threw it from his consciousness. He thanked his sweat for the way it camouflaged his hot tears as he marched furiously across the club, shoving aside any stray clubber who dared intersect his warpath.

At last, his footsteps carried him up the rise's steps, and his wrath-drenched eyes fixed upon the object of his obsessions. "Magnus!" he yelled, then threw a disgusted finger at the startled Downworlders - no, Mundanes? - perched upon his couch. "What's the meaning of this?!"

The look Magnus fixed him with was wholly different from every look he'd ever been given before. Those haunting eyes lazily drifted to meet his own, a disturbing stillness lurking behind their beautiful glow. They seemed brighter despite their cold, more beckoning despite the way they took their time dissecting, studying,  _stripping_ him. Alec gave a not-entirely-insincere shudder, struggling to remember his anger, utterly failing to keep his heart steady before so perfect a figure as the one before him now.

_It's okay. I don't care. Let's just go home and forget this ever happened. Please, just take me home._

Suddenly, Magnus moved, expertly slithering out from between the two bodies and lifting to a stand like the snakecharmer's cobra - though, the way Magnus held him in his hypnotizing gaze, Alec rather thought him the charmer and himself the snake, dancing helplessly to whatever tune the Warlock desired. That tune finally spilled from Magnus's thin lips, drifting through the air and intoxicating him like fine incense. "Alexander," he purred, and Alec remembered how much he loved the way Magnus spoke his name, his  _full_ name, enunciating every syllable such that it felt like a symphony's opening phrase. "I wasn't expecting you."

His delight in this perfect being turned his anger to sorrow, one so intense he felt his lips tremble. "You... You told me to come meet you here," he whimpered, and somehow it felt like he was begging Magnus to touch him, to hold him, to kiss him. Why wouldn't his voice listen to him?!

Magnus's eyes narrowed. "...I see," he murmured, and Alec swore he detected a hint of irritation or annoyance upon each word.

"I'm sorry." The words spilled out before he even realized he was speaking. Why was  _he_ apologizing? Magnus was the one fooling around!

Magnus said something more. It sounded like he'd uttered, "You will be," but there was something exotic about the tones, something that filled Alec's head with delicate rose petals and a bath of pearls and a tight leather strap around his neck. He choked, trying to form a response, watching defeatedly as Magnus dismissed his companions with a negligent wave.

They said something. Alec couldn't hear it, could only sense their hurt frustration. But he didn't care. Magnus was his. Magnus chose  _him_. He got to stay, where  _they_ had been banished!

He blinked, a hand lifting to hold his head, and he forced himself to look away.  _Of course Magnus chose me! I'm his boyfriend! And he—_

Delicate, pointed nails held his face, and in spite of himself he looked back up like a moth drawn to Magnus's light. "Would you like to go home?"

Their clothes discarded... Flesh sliding alongside flesh... Invasive fingers, and desperate tongues...

Was he weeping? "Yes," Alec breathed, his every ounce of rage flickering out like candles burning away the last of their wicks.

"Good," Magnus replied, the trace of his hand down Alec's arm leaving behind a trail of goosebumps. His fingers coiled amid Alec's and held him in a grip Alec doubted he could have broken even if he'd wanted to. As it was, he simply stared and watched as Magnus led their way through the crowd, his every movement swift and efficient despite being somehow impossibly delicate and elegant. They broke free of the claustrophobic club like doves from a forest canopy - distantly, Alec heard the bouncer bid them farewell, but he no longer held a single care in the world for the guard or the establishment he patrolled.

_Let them both burn, if only I can be here with Magnus._

The errant thought disturbed him enough to abruptly shake him from his daze. He yanked his hand back so suddenly he managed to free it from Magnus's grasp, though the drag of the Warlock's nails across his skin sent another needy shudder through his bones. "Magnus, wait," he panted, catching his breath. He frowned at the thin lines of blood decorating his hand, and as he focused on their coppery scent he could feel his thoughts settling like the white speckles of a snow globe. "Magnus," he started again, knowing he'd never grow weary of saying the name, "what's going on?" He didn't dare look away from his hand - if he did, he knew he'd just get swept up again, and he'd never get his answers. "First, you tell me to come home. Then, you're at the Institute, but you want me to come here. And now... Now, we're going back home?" His face wrinkled with conflicting feelings, remembering the tangle of limbs he'd caught Magnus in. "And, you... What  _was_ that back there? Magnus, if something's wrong..."

Those perfect hands broke into his view, folding beautifully about his injured hand. His words faded into silence as his eyes followed his hand up, up, up to the doting touch of Magnus's lips. A long, languid tongue drew its point slowly along each line of blood, and as Magnus lapped up each wound Alec felt like a bandage was being wrapped around every cut upon his heart.

"I am sorry, My Alexander." Oddly enough, the words bid flickering displays of cherubs flitting around a baby boy. "I know I have hurt you." Magnus stepped closer, artfully moving his body into Alec's space and slipping in-between Alec's arms. His hands released Alec's in favor of creeping their way around Alec's waist, slipping down until they found the edge of his jeans and idly fingering their seam. The leverage he commanded through Alec's lower back was plenty enough to bring Alec closer, pressing their loins against each other's in a chilling premonition of the rest of their evening. "I hope you'll allow me to make it up to you?" he whispered, and if the words alone weren't enough to convey his meaning the scenes dancing across Alec's eyes would finish the job.

Panting breaths... Clenched sheets... Euphoric moans, begs, screams...

"Y-Yes,  _of course_ ," Alec quickly replied, bundling up his fantasies.  _Not here. Not in the middle of the street._

_Why not?_

"Good."

Though Alec had subconsciously vied for a stolen kiss, Magnus turned away, reclaiming command of Alec's hand and once more pulling him along through the humid night. Alec bit his lip, feeling like he was being toyed with, wondering if he liked it. A buzzing in his pocket brought him to check his phone, and he frowned at the text previewed across his screen.

_Where are you?_

He looked up at Magnus, then pocketed his phone. He must have just gotten the text late. A problem with the cell tower, probably.

After all, he was right here. Here, with the very same man who'd sent the text.

But though he told himself these things, though every fiber of his being yearned to believe them, the events of the past few days fueled his needling doubt.

"Why are we walking?" he panted, somewhat appalled by the thirst in his voice but equally... proud, perhaps.  _Do you hear, Magnus? Don't you see what you've done to me?_

_Why are you making me wait?_

"I wish to walk with you, is all."

Their feet tangled together, shoes kicked to the floor... Magnus's nails carving along his runes, leaving behind tiny droplets of blood... The ubiquitous need for that devilish tongue to just forget the damn cuts already and circle  _somewhere else_...

"Romantic." He'd meant to be sarcastic, but in spite of himself it felt sincere. "This is more of a jog than a walk, if you ask me."

_Nothing wrong with that. The faster we walk, the sooner we get home, the sooner I can—_

Alec started, realizing the thoughts in his head had become a voice in his ears. Magnus's voice, speaking aloud the fervent thoughts running through his mind.

"Stop!" he suddenly cried out, though he could feel his whole soul condemning his protest.  _No! Don't stop! Don't let it end. Please, don't ever let this end..._ He clenched his eyes tight, blinking through his haze, then finally looked up, determined to confront the man beside him. "Magnus, what is going  _on_?!"

To his surprise, no voice coiled about his brain, and no visions danced before his eyes. Like a painting of glass shattering from a hundred-foot drop, every ounce of beauty fell through the air before him in a flurry of delicate shards. Feline eyes stared at him, broiling with an intense loathing Alec hadn't thought Magnus capable of. His lips parted to say something, but before his tongue could form the words movement stirred along his peripheral, and he gasped in a kind of horrified surprise.

"Alexander... ?"

Alec gaped at the face peeking out from Magnus's apartment, and then at the one still glaring at him. The same yellow eyes, the same feathered hair, the same glittering makeup painting the same bronze skin. He stepped back against the wall so suddenly it sent a loud  _thump_ down the hall, his chest rapidly heaving from a pulse that refused to slow, too spurred as it was from confusion, fear... lust.

_The more the merrier, right?_

He grabbed his head and shut his eyes, but as he tried to collapse he felt warm, strong, comforting arms holding him preciously. "Alexander! Alexander, what happened?"

Alec freed himself of the embrace easily enough, banished from his person at the first struggle. "N-No, stop! I... I don't... ?!"

He sensed the person beside him scowling, then whirling upon the being who'd led him here. "What did you  _do_ to him?!"

_Magnus's voice. That's definitely Magnus's voice._

The same voice sneered in reply, coated with an acid that burned his veins with an unrelenting need. "What does it  _look_ like? It's not  _my_ fault your stupid little pet wandered into my den." Alec's heart was still trying to fathom that voice calling him "stupid" when it spoke again, this time drawn into an amused snicker. "He just  _had_ to open his lovesick mouth. He'd have made a delicious meal, I think..." Alec's body tingled at the notion of being consumed in such a manner, and his hands fisted in a desperate attempt to fight it off. "...but ultimately not worth suffering another of your tantrums."

Hearing the voice grow distant, Alec finally found courage enough to look up, just in time to see his evening's guide saunter dreamily into Magnus's apartment. He swallowed, watching him slip beyond sight, then warily glanced at the man beside him. There, he saw worry, protectiveness... love. Nothing like the decadent nightmare who'd captured him, but better in ways he couldn't rightly describe. He sighed, still gazing into those gently gleaming eyes. "...Magnus. It's... It's really you, right... ?"

Magnus nodded, gingerly helping Alec to a stand. "Yes, it's me. I'm so sorry, Alexander. This is all my fault..." Magnus's decorated fingers lifted to hold his face, a tenderness to his manner that Alec now realized he'd missed. Subconsciously, he leaned into the touch, all his need and longing coalescing into a tight hug of his Warlock's body against his own.

"Magnus... Thank the Angel." He squeezed the man tight, taking a deep breath of Magnus's cologne, and as his nerves settled once and for all he finally loosened his grip and separated just enough to meet his Warlock's eyes once more, fraught with concern. "But, who... ?"

Magnus sighed, his hand finding Alec's. "Come inside. I'll... I'll explain everything..."


End file.
